


unpack my heart with words

by thereigatesquire



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Iambic Pentameter, M/M, Poetry, Shakespeare, Short, Sonnets, Tragedy, conclusion, denouement, love sonnets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereigatesquire/pseuds/thereigatesquire
Summary: A collection of poems inspired by William Shakespeare's "Hamlet."
Relationships: Hamlet/Horatio (Hamlet)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. V.i.234

Who is this delicate prince, who has of late lost all his mirth?  
This prophetic soul, who wishes devoutly for death's consummation?  
Who wears his best friend in his heart's core,  
And calls out to him when death is swift in his arrest?  
This dramatic youth, who was born to set things right?  
The rightful Dane, who unpacks his heart with words?  
The archetypal procrastinator, the epitome of indecision?  
V.i.234


	2. the rest is silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conclusion to "Hamlet," since it lacks some good rhyming couplets at the end.

So ends the tale of this ill-fated Dane,  
With many dead and Denmark's future vague.

Revenge, though just, hath left the state unwell,  
And only one lone love survives to tell

The twisted, murky history weaved of gloom,  
And of the weighted pause that hath wrought doom.


	3. in my heart's core

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next up is an alternating series of sonnets Hamlet and Horatio penned to each other. I'd like to think that Hamlet sent his, but Horatio kept his to himself.

~~To Hamlet:~~

Thine owner, beating heart, thou hast betrayed,  
To fly and tenant with the Royal Dane.  
Thou set thee up for weeping in the morn,  
When, as thee must, thou break with deepest woe.  
For thee were not to noble stature born,  
Which no amount of yearning could bestow.

O why, mine heart, did thee not stay with sense?  
From safe philosophy thou hath flown hence.  
You’ve set a new, unfathomable course,  
That only burns the ocean in thine wake.  
From logic’s head thou’ve thoroughly divorced;  
Love for the Prince can only end in ache.

But as with Hamlet thou art firmly lodged,  
We’ll see if fixed tragedy can be dodged.

Dearest Horatio,

In faith! Who held those words I bled in truth  
Were meant for old Polonius’s youth?  
That girl would never pause to ponder on  
The constant, endless movement of the sun.

No, there is only one whose logic rails  
Against the cosmos’ trivial details.  
He seeks to quantify the stellar fire,  
And wars with truth’s propensity to liars.

And so I come to set the annals clear,  
On whom it is I hold the closest dear.  
It’s he who dreams in strict philosophy:  
It’s thee, Horatio, and never she!

Thou very well may doubt the sun doth move,  
But never doubt my love is made in truth.

Thine always,  
Hamlet


	4. ay, in my heart of heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (These sonnets are supposed to be during the play, before anything really bad happens)

~~To my lord, Hamlet:~~

My Prince’s eyes are nothing like the sun;  
They glitter black like dark pools in the night.  
No prize for manly figure has he won,  
His movements more of grace than gallant might.  
To fated indecision is he prone,  
And plans more mad than skillfully thought out,  
But in his morals he is set in stone,  
And to his kingdom nothing but devout.  
His thoughts are often philosophical,  
And range on the morose and morbid side  
(Perchance I’ll catch him lecturing a skull)  
But in me he consistently confides.  
Though delicate and tender he may be,  
No dearer could a person be to me.

Addressed to Horatio, my dearest,

Inhabit we a stern, unyielding world,  
And until death we shall not find our rest,  
As forced by Canon, live our whole lives through,  
Our mortal coil, bound to keep it furled.  
But more than law, my soul remains abreast,  
The fact, the truth that keeps me here is you.

Confessed I did to wear thee in my core,  
But limited my troth-uttering then,  
I meant to say that I keep _only_ thee;  
Thine faith alone in my soul do I store,  
For I could stand the wrath and whims of men,  
If I could, as I ache for, love you free.

To not Ophelia were letters penned,  
But to thee! Horatio, oh dearest friend.

He that cherishes thine heart,  
Hamlet


	5. as i do thee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This pair of sonnets is meant to have been written after things have started going badly

~~My dear Hamlet:~~

I long for our old days abroad at school,  
Before our lives became a hell on earth,  
Before convening with thine father’s ghoul,  
Before, Hamlet, thou had lost all thy mirth.  
For thou art changèd now and weighed with grief,  
And death our melancholy leitmotif.

Thy words of yearning for oblivion,  
Evoke in me a sorrow nameless great.  
I see thy ploy with truth begin to blend,  
Each day harder for thee to separate,  
Until I fear I’ll lose thee to the morgue,  
Oh why could we not stay at Wittenberg?

But know I’ll stay beside thee to the end,  
And all my love to thee I do extend.

To mine Horatio, whenever thou shalt receive this,

The wheel of time has spun around at last,  
There shall be no more running from my fate.  
Descend I will into the valley vast  
And now complete my task, albeit late  
But though I go, I plead: don’t mourn for me  
Resigned myself I have, and knowest thou:  
I do not set my life at a pin’s fee  
My last act will fulfill my filial vow  
But even through this bluff I’m not at rest  
For I believe the greatest tragedy  
Is not Denmark, is neither pain nor death  
But that I will be forced to part with thee  


Before I said “something too much of this,”  
But now, forevermore, that chance I’ve missed.

Thine till the last,  
Hamlet


	6. something too much of this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horatio's farewell to Hamlet (the final sonnet for now)

Sweet Prince,

I cast thee off, a lone deckhand on shore;  
Staying behind, as all I’ve known is lost.  
It’s thee, foremost, but also Denmark’s lore,  
For Norway now upon the throne is crossed.

Thou told me to endure and tell thy tale,  
And so I write, spill ink for tragic pasts,  
But every sigh and every shadow frail,  
Reminds me of how dear a soul I’ve lost.

In life, I was a mooring point for thee;  
I sheltered thee through every passing storm.  
So now I stay, chained to reality,  
The star’s relentless price to keep the norm.

For thee, I wished to brave the depths of hell,  
And though I’m there, apart from thee I dwell.

Thy love,  
Horatio


End file.
